


Captain John Watson, the Flirt

by abbieroad



Category: Sherlock (TV), johnlock - Fandom
Genre: AU, BBC, Hospitals, Johnlock - Freeform, Johnlock Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Sherlock - Freeform, Sherlock AU, Surgery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2014-04-23
Packaged: 2018-01-19 10:47:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1466620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abbieroad/pseuds/abbieroad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is just out of surgery and is too drugged-up to recognize Sherlock.</p><p>-“Who are you?” John's voice was lower than normal and he spoke slowly with a sloppy seductive smile. Sherlock tried to refrain from letting his amusement show. “I'm Captain John Watson. Are you my nurse? How lucky am I?” John tried to wink, but epically failed considering the state that he was in. “You are quite a sight to see, sir.”-</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fanfic/oneshot whatever you want to call it.

Sherlock sat in an uncomfortable chair next to John's hospital bed, waiting for him to wake up. He stood up and walked around to the other side of the bed and looked down at John's sleeping face. He wrinkled his eyebrows and kept walking around, almost as if he were studying him. Sherlock sat back down in the uncomfortable chair and got out his mobile and started typing furiously.

_He's still not awake. SH_

The phone buzzed not long after the message was sent. His brother assured him that John would wake up shortly, and that an appendectomy was nothing to worry about. Sherlock knew the risks of the surgery because all he had been doing that day was researching the risks of it. He was still not convinced.

He shot out of the chair in a huff and shoved his phone back into his pocket. He walked around to the other side of the bed again, and decided to touch John to see if he stirred. He extended his finger and touched John's cheek lightly. No response. He poked his finger a little harder, and again, nothing. Sherlock made a noise of frustration and went back over to the chair and plopped into it. He shifted around trying to get comfortable; he was completely unable to sit still.

Just as Sherlock was beginning to settle, John began to shift under his sheets. He opened his eyes slightly and blinked hard. When he opened his eyes, he squinted at Sherlock and then his face softened into a smile. Sherlock started to smile back, but he realized it was a smile that John had never used with him.

“Who are _you_?” John's voice was lower than normal and he spoke slowly with a sloppy seductive smile. Sherlock tried to refrain from letting his amusement show. “I'm Captain John Watson. Are you my nurse? How lucky am I?” John tried to wink, but epically failed considering the state that he was in. “You are _quite_ a sight to see, sir.”

“I'm Sherlock Holmes. It's an honor to meet you... _Captain_ John Watson.” He smiled at him.

“ _Sherlock._ ” He dragged out the syllables more than what was necessary. “That's such a mysterious name.”

Sherlock smiled again, showing his teeth this time. “Is that so?”

“You know,” John slurred. “When I get out of here, I'm going to take you to get some coffee...” John trailed off and closed his eyes, but they shot back open a few moments later. “With me. Coffee with me.”

“How could I refuse such a kind offer?” Sherlock said.

“Oh, you can't.” John gave him a lopsided smile. “I'm irresistible.”

Sherlock nodded in agreement as John's eyes fluttered shut, even though he fought to keep them open. He smiled to himself and laughed once through his nose. He sat there for a while staring at his hands, though his mind was elsewhere.

 

–

 

The next day, Sherlock was wheeling John out of the hospital. “Did anyone hear me say anything embarrassing while I was drugged up?”

Sherlock helped him into the passenger seat. “Oh, just me.”

John's eyes widened slightly. “Oh, God, what did I say?”

He looked at John and he then knew what John was afraid of saying. “Don't worry, nothing you said in there changed anything.” He began. “You surely didn't say anything that I wouldn't agree with.” John smiled, but he made a face that said he didn't understand. Sherlock smiled and shut John's door. He turned away and his smile changed into something more somber, but that was only for a moment. He breathed in and walked to the driver's side of the car.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone liked the first chapter and I wasn't expecting to continue this but I am. Thanks for all the feedback!

After all the fuss of trying to get John up those stairs, they didn't want to try to get him up even more. “And,” Sherlock said. “I'd much rather you sleep down here. Wouldn't want something to burst in there.” Sherlock moved his hands in a circular motion around where the surgery had taken place.

John couldn't help but feel his chest become lighter at the thought of Sherlock being worried for him. He nodded at Sherlock and carefully sat on the couch, wincing when he reached it. He lightly put a hand on his surgery scar and exhaled.

“I'll take the couch.” Sherlock said. “That's the _polite_ thing to do, isn't it?”

John laughed lightly to himself and shook his head. “That's kind of you, but it's fine and I don't want to take your bed from you.”

Sherlock squinted at him for a moment. “You're doing that... that _thing_ that people do when someone offers something to them.” Sherlock spun into his chair and mumbled to himself. “Tedious.”

“Really, Sherlock. I'm fine.”

Sherlock jolted his head in John's direction. “It's only logical that the one who just went through surgery takes the more comfortable sleeping option.” Sherlock sighed. “I _insist_ that you take the bed tonight.”

John made a face that said that Sherlock won again. He took a deep breath and slowly stood from the couch. Sherlock saw his struggle and went up to him, unsure of how to help. “I'm just a little sore, is all.”

Sherlock nodded and helped John into the bedroom. It was if John was moving in slow motion and Sherlock was being sped up. John slowly sat onto the bed while Sherlock paced around the room. “Are you alright? If you need something in the middle of the night, don't worry about waking me up. I'm—”

“Sherlock.” John interrupted. “Really, it's fine.”

Sherlock paused and breathed in. “I'll be out there if you need anything.”

 

–

 

A few hours later, Sherlock was on his back on the couch with his hands steepled under his chin and his eyes closed. After what happened at the hospital, Sherlock was nervous. He went over what had happened over and over in his mind, dissecting and analyzing it, because that's the only way he knows how to make sense of things. He didn't know why he was nervous; he thought that a feeling such as anxiety was time consuming and it had no benefit to anyone. Yet, there he was. His stomach was in a knot and he had spent the last hour trying to untangle it. Finally, his mind let him free and he fell into a dream of what he had been thinking of.

Meanwhile, John was staring at the ceiling of Sherlock's room. He had tried to fall asleep several times but his head wouldn't stop making noise. He wondered if this was how Sherlock felt, his mind always in motion. He wondered if Sherlock was asleep now or if he was wandering in his mind palace.

He turned on his side and pulled one of the pillows close to him. He breathed in and closed his eyes. It smelled just like Sherlock and he couldn't think of a scent that would be better to fall asleep to. John opened his eyes and sat up in bed because there was a strange feeling in his stomach. He rubbed his eyes and put his face in his hands. He wanted to know what Sherlock had heard in the hospital. John was straight, but he couldn't deny that he imagined what it would be like if the dynamics were different in his friendship with Sherlock. He wondered what it would be like if he wasn't alone in this bedroom.

“I'm not gay.” John said to himself instinctively. He had said those three words so many different times to so many different people, and he started to wonder if he was trying to convince them or himself.

Outside the door, he could hear Sherlock talking. Was he on the phone? John glanced toward the clock on the bedside table. No, nobody would want to talk to Sherlock at this hour. The muffled talking continued, and John decided to go and investigate. He winced when he shifted his weight to his feet, and he walked cautiously to the door.

He walked past the kitchen counters that were lined with parts of an experiment and saw Sherlock on the couch. That long body was spread over the entire couch and limbs were hanging off of it. Sherlock was clearly in deep sleep, but snipits of sentences fell out of his mouth. Sherlock talks in his sleep. John smiled at the fact that he could still learn something new about Sherlock.

“...Coffee... _Captain..._ ” Sherlock mumbled sleepily.

John's spine got a small jolt of electricity. He felt some sort of familiarity with coffee and Sherlock, even though he couldn't remember any time that he and Sherlock had gone out for coffee.

“John... _Watson_. Watson...” John's spine was electrified now at knowing that Sherlock was dreaming of him. John walked closer to him.

“Sherlock,” John said quietly, wondering if Sherlock would be able to carry out a conversation in his sleep. “What are you dreaming about?”

Sherlock moved his head slightly, but his eyes stayed shut. “John... _Captain_ John... Watson.”

Captain? Why would Sherlock call him _Captain_?

“What about John?” John tried.

Sherlock pressed his lips together and then relaxed them. “Hospital.”

John inhaled through his nose and stepped away. Sherlock was starting to stir, and John didn'ta3 want to be standing over him as he woke. He walked as quickly as he could to the bedroom and got back into bed, shutting the door behind him louder than he intended. He had said something at the hospital. Something that was big enough for Sherlock to talk about in his sleep. John was on his side for the rest of the night, but there was something in his chest that wouldn't let him sleep.

Sherlock woke to the sound of a shutting door. He put a hand on his chest, realizing that he was out of breath. He turned over on his side and put his head in his hands, cursing at himself. He dreamed of John and had woken up with his heart beating against his ribs. He didn't understand why his mind was betraying him like this. He spent the rest of the night fighting the knot in his stomach that just kept getting tighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this, I mightt keep going but I'm not sure. If I do, it'll probably be a few more chapters.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken so long to update! I hope you like this chapter. I really want to change the title because it's no longer very relevant, but I'm so bad at thinking of titles so it'll just stay like this.

Neither of them slept at all, but when the light started to pour in through the curtains, Sherlock got up from the couch and started making tea. John was usually the one to make it, but he had assumed that John was still asleep.

John heard movement from outside of the bedroom so he tried to sit up. It took him a while to get to his feet and he slowly walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. He watched Sherlock for a few seconds since his back was to him.

“Morning,” John finally said and walked over to his chair. “Sleep well?”

Sherlock made a grunt in response and brought tea to John. “Hardly slept. This doesn't let me rest often.” He said, tapping his forehead and falling onto the couch, setting his tea down. Sherlock's fingers were under his chin just as they were last night, his eyes closed.

“What're you thinking of?” John asked cautiously. He tried not to let his imagination wander about what Sherlock was seeing in his head. When Sherlock didn't answer, John decided that it was about time he showered, considering the last time he did was before he went into surgery. He slowly got out of his chair and waddled into the bathroom.

Sherlock's mind is always working at a hundred miles an hour, no matter what he's thinking about. The only time that his mind got any sort of break was when he solved a case, or solved whatever the issue was. But he didn't know how to solve this. He didn't know if he _wanted_ to solve this. It would change too much

John was obviously physically attracted to him in some way, otherwise his subconscious wouldn't have blubbered those things in the hospital. Sherlock tried to keep his heart beat at a normal speed when he thought about John being attracted to him. _Do not jump to conclusions._

He's known that he has felt something for John for a long while. There's no way to tell when that feeling turned into something that nearly consumed him, but he believes that it was when John had a bomb strapped to his chest. He realized that he wouldn't be able to live without him when he was actually at risk of losing him.

He swore to himself that he would never tell John about what he's been feeling, but it's driving him completely mad. He has dreams about the man, and he feels that if he doesn't say something, then it'll climb it's way out of him.

“John!” Sherlock said. When nobody responded, he opened his eyes and saw that John wasn't sitting in his chair. He then heard the water running in the bathroom and sighed. When he got out, then he would say something.

John heard Sherlock call his name from outside, but he didn't respond. He'd be out soon enough. First, he needed to think. _Sherlock was dreaming about me._ That was obvious. The frustrating thing is that that could mean anything. But he was dreaming about the hospital. John said something in the hospital.

What he said was the real question. He vaguely remembered images from that day. Images of the stark hospital lights, and Sherlock by his bedside. Sherlock smiling. Talking. He could hear the rustle of his sheets, the ping of Sherlock's phone... but _dialogue,_ where was the dialogue?

Then it came back like someone sent a wall crashing down in John's head. The flirting, and Sherlock flirted back. Was Sherlock just playing along though? He tried to remember if Sherlock was recording it all with his phone, but if that was the case, then everyone would be poking fun at him. And Sherlock wasn't the type to just play along with something like that. Not unless he actually wanted to.

John pinched the bridge of his nose. Why was this all so complicated? He's had male friends before, but there was never any... tension. Not like this.

“If I were to... play for that team,” John said to the water. “I would probably want Sherlock in that way...” He put his head against the tile. “Who am I kidding?” He mumbled. He's been in denial about his feelings for Sherlock for a very long time, but he wasn't stupid. He knows what this feeling is, and it's not a feeling that you should have about your friend.

He turned the water off and dried himself with a towel. He put his clothes on and took a moment to fix his hair. He had to say something, he just had to. He took a deep breath and walked out.

Sherlock had been pacing around since he heard the water shut off. How do you put something into words that you can't even fathom? You can't. Anxiety had built in Sherlock's chest but seemed to have vanished when John walked into the room.

“John.” Sherlock said. John stiffened at the sound of his name, but tried not to let it show. He walked closer to Sherlock. “I need to talk to you about something.”

“I need to—” John started, but Sherlock interrupted.

“No, let me speak.” He took a deep breath and looked right at John. “There's something I've been wanting to say to you for a very long time, but I never have. For many reasons. Mainly because my main concern is your happiness, and I'm not sure that this will make you happy. I knew that when I started to feel something for you, that I would need to tuck it away. But it's been pulling at the hinges of the cage that I've kept it in, and it's nearly pulling me apart.” Sherlock paused and looked down, then he glanced back up to see John's expression. His face was made of stone. Sherlock kept his head down slightly but continued talking. “There aren't enough words in the English language to express exactly what I feel for you, but I can try.” Sherlock looked up. “I love you.”

John felt completely numb and Sherlock was shaken with nerves. John opened his mouth to speak, but he had trouble making anything come out. “I...”

Sherlock instantly deflated. He just ruined _everything._ “I'm—I'm sorry. Never mind, I didn't want to—”

John closed the space between him and Sherlock and pressed his lips against the other's. He put his hands around Sherlock's neck and his curls wrapped around his fingers. He felt Sherlock's arms wrap around his waist to pull him closer. Sherlock's head was spinning, he thought of several different outcomes, but this was not what he was expecting.

John pulled away and looked at Sherlock. “Do _not_ apologize.” He smiled. “I was trying to figure out a way to tell you the exact same thing.” Sherlock's heart was trying to break out of his ribcage, so he smiled and kissed him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it. I think there's going to be one more chapter. Let me know what you thought. :)


End file.
